The White Almond Tree

THE WHITE ALMOND TREE

Sarah stared at the sailboat wishing it would take her around the world.  It would never happen. She scraped by, barely paying rent and making car payments, so a long vacation on an expensive boat—a fantasy. She reluctantly took down her beach umbrella, folded her beach chair, shook sand off her towel and carried things to her car, ending a pleasant but lonely Saturday afternoon.  Her willowy blond hair fell over her green bathing suit, and she shook the sand off her flip-flops and washed her feet at the faucet before getting into her car.

When she walked into her apartment she found her cat lazily snoozing in the warm sun shining through the sliding glass doors. A nap sounded good. She looked forward to an evening of TV and a day to sleep in before another hectic week of office work in a claustrophobic building. She lay down on the couch thinking she would make supper in a minute.  She fell asleep and dreamed of sailing.

On Monday as she drove home from work, a storm had risen and a gust of harsh wind blew at her car. Seemingly in pain, a large flowering almond tree on her right reached for a branch torn away and tossed into the air. With a terrible thud, the branch fell on the hood, white flowers scattering, then skidded into the road. Shuddering, she felt as though she herself had been torn off and thrown into the street.  After arriving home for a normal evening of feeding her cat, supper, TV and, and a long bath, her equilibrium returned. She set the alarm on her phone and nestled into bed.

Mildly drowsy, she felt herself being carried into a house and placed by the fireplace. Outside, the large tree from which she had fallen became a white-haired man with a trim white beard shouting, “Where is my branch? I need my branch. I am in so much pain.” “I’m here,” she called and he walked toward the house.  Suddenly awake, she thought, living alone I’m becoming strange. What an odd dream.

By Monday, in a suit for work, she rushed through traffic toward her office. She passed the tree whose branch had fallen on her car, stared at it and gave thanks that it didn’t follow her. In the office her supervisor explained the new process she needed to implement and that a consultant would coach her later in the afternoon. Sarah nodded and said she’d be ready. When 2 o’clock arrived, Sarah trembled when the white-haired tree man from her dream walked into her office. 

“Nice to meet you Sarah, I’m Aaron,” he said, extending his gnarled hand.  Perfectly professional, he did his coaching job, and she, perfectly professional, learned what he taught.

“Thank you so much,” she said politely as he left. Once alone, she closed the door and shook like leaves on a branch. 

After work when she walked into the house, her cat seemed far more attentive than usual. 

“Hello, Tiger,” she greeted him.

“Hello,” he responded, turning his intelligent green eyes on her. “Sarah, I know how much you want to go around the world in a sailboat and I know how you can do it.”

“How?” she asked despite her alarm at hearing her cat speak.

“Draw a boat on your arm and you’ll be there.”

“I’m quite sure I’m hallucinating,” she responded as she opened a can of cat food for him.

She thought he looked hurt by her comment. First a tree man and now a talking cat. They say that loneliness is a mental health hazard… She took a picture of Tiger and posted it on social media. Almost immediately her mother responded with a heart. She remembered her counselor saying she needed to limit social media and make video calls or make plans with friends instead of infinite scrolling. She called her mother.

“I see you liked my picture of Tiger.”

“I love Tiger. How are you? Thanks for calling.”

“I’m okay.” Sarah thought she could say this and not mention almond trees, white-haired men, or talking cats. “How are you?” Her mom launched into some of her favorite complaints about American politics, her struggle to get her husband (Sarah’s stepdad) to make better health choices, and her problems with a co-worker. It all seemed reassuringly familiar, negative, and normal, and Sarah stopped looking accusingly at Tiger.

Nothing untoward happened the rest of the week and she scrupulously avoided the falling-branch-white-almond-tree street. On Saturday she sat once more on the beach. After an hour, mocking herself, she pulled a pen out of her bag and drew a boat on her arm. Within seconds she found herself stepping off the dock onto the deck of a sailboat. She had no idea how to sail, wasn’t sure how she had arrived there, and hoped no one would accuse her of trespassing.

Wind whipping through her long blond hair she saw the shadow of someone coming along the dock toward her. “Hello?” she called tentatively as the light revealed Aaron coming closer, responding, “Sarah!” She felt resigned to an upcoming visit to a psychiatrist.

“You mentioned a desire to go sailing the other day, and I’m so glad you accepted my invitation. I wasn’t sure you would, you looked surprised, taken aback and a little incredulous when I asked you.” Sarah did not remember an invitation, but considering how hard it had been to pay attention to the work they did together perhaps he had asked and she had unconsciously registered the directions? 

They spent an enjoyable afternoon sailing, and though it wasn’t around the world, it felt comfortable and warm. She chatted happily, thinking she would enjoy this moment and process the strangeness later with her counselor. 

By the end of the afternoon they had exchanged phone numbers. He suggested a restaurant in her neighborhood where they could meet for supper the next evening. She accepted, deciding mental health work could wait and she would enjoy the fantasy while it lasted. 

After her normal day of work, she drove home, and this time she looked seriously and curiously at the almond tree as she passed it. That evening at supper in a cozy booth eating comfort food, Aaron asked if she had enjoyed sailing enough to do it again.

“So very much,” she said. “A wish come true for me.”

“Was it hard to find my boat?”

“No,” she said. She pointed to the boat drawn on her arm and said, “My cat told me to draw this and I found you instantly.”

“You see,” he explained, “I’ve been looking for you. A branch torn from me in a wind.”

Sarah gasped. “You know about that?”

“I feel it.”

“I’m hoping I’m not crazy. Am I crazy?”

“I don’t think so.”

He paid for the meal with a perfectly normal credit card, insisted on walking her home, and asked if the next day after work she could stop by his house on her way home. He texted her the address and she agreed. 

At work the next day she told her supervisor that she and Aaron had gone out together and asked what she knew about him. 

“A very nice man from an excellent company. I’ve had nothing but success in working with him. How fortunate that you must have impressed him enough for him to ask you out.”

“We had an amazing sailing date, and then a pleasant supper together. I enjoyed him very much and hope he keeps asking me out.”

“I hope so too.”  The conversation returned to work tasks, and Sarah felt reassured about her own competence when her supervisor commended her success with the new project.

When Sarah arrived at Aaron’s address the next evening she realized it stood only one house away from the almond tree.  She parked her car and stood looking up at the branches. She heard his voice. “Reattach yourself to me and alleviate our pain.”

Sarah wrapped her arms around the tree and felt a sense of peace and belonging and happiness. Aaron walked toward her in the shadows and wrapped his arm around her.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

“This is a beautiful tree. A branch broke off and fell on my car here a couple of weeks ago.”

“I’m very attached to this tree. Come on in. I’ve made dinner for you.”

As they sat down to his perfectly normal dinner of pasta and wine, he said, “We fit together, don’t we?”

“Perhaps you’ve put an enchantment on me,” suggested Sarah. “I can now listen to my cat and bond with almond trees...”

“And find your way back to me..”

“And dream of you...”

 “…and work together and eat out and sail on the ocean…”

“And avoid psychiatrists?”

“We don’t need a psychiatrist, little branch.”